Gods help is nearer nor the fair even.
She's a foul bird that syles her own nest.
Every man wats best where his own shoe binds him.
Sike man, sike master.
He that counts but his Host, counts twise.
It is weil warit they have sorrow, that buyes it with their silver.
An old seck craves meikle clouting.
He that counts all costs, will never put plow in the yeard.
No man can seek his marrow in the Kirn, so weil as he that hes bin in it himself.
Ill herds makes fat wolfes.